The Kittens
by AAB
Summary: Now Harm has six kittens to find a new home for. Again this is a coproduction with my sister; we alternated in writing a chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Jennifer  
**

It was almost six o 'clock when Harm entered his apartment. Another day of hard work had ended and he looked forward to a quiet evening. Mac was otherwise occupied so he was on his own. Dinner, a bit of housekeeping and a lot of relaxing, he decided. He walked over to the bedroom to set the cats free. Immediately he was surrounded by little meowing furry bodies. McKinley was on her favourite spot, his shoulder, in the blink of an eye and Mac the Knife testes his claws on Harm ankle, causing him to jump. That caused McKinley to almost lose her balance so now Harm had two kittens digging their claws in. He couldn't stop himself from a little yodelling. Luckily, as soon as he had opened two large cans of kitten food and filled several bowls, the kittens' attention was distracted and for a moment they were happily tucking in.  
Harm put a container of frozen pasta in the microwave to defrost and heat, set the timer and went to change.  
When he was back in the living, the phone started to ring.  
"Commander Rabb speaking."  
"Hi Harm, It's Jennifer here."  
"Hi Jennifer. How are you? And how's your mum?"  
A sniff sounded at the other end of the line. Harm got alarmed.  
"She is not … she didn't die, did she?"  
A deep breath.  
"No, she didn't. But for a while it was touch and go. She caught pneumonia. It was an antibiotic-resistant strain and she was very sick."  
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Harm told her. He had met her mum once or twice when she visited Jennifer and really liked her. "Please, sent her my best."  
"I will do that. But there is more. You know my sister was to come and take over so I could come back to Washington for a while?"  
"Yes," Harm said.  
"They were on their way to the airport when a car hit them. My sister is okay but her husband ended up in hospital with several injuries. So she can't come and I won't be able to return to Washington for some weeks. I'm so sorry."  
"Don't worry," Harm tried to console her. "We'll take care of Mac and her kittens."  
"I know," Jennifer sighed. "But they are ready for their new homes and I won't see them."  
Harm kept silent. She was right.  
"Have you already found them new homes?"  
"No, not yet. We asked around at JAG but no response. Only Mackenzie, she will stay with us."  
"Us?" Jennifer sounded curious.  
Harm blushed, grateful Jennifer couldn't see him. "Yes, us. Mac and I are together now."  
"Finally!"  
Harm sucked in his breath, wavering between amusement and exasperation It seemed the whole world had known Mac and he belonged together, long before he himself had reached that conclusion, let alone acted on it.  
"Why Mackenzie?" Jennifer wanted to know.  
"Because she is the cutest," Harm gave her the reason he had given to Mac weeks earlier.  
"And that's why you called her …?"  
"Yes." Harm had to curb a flash of irritation. He didn't like to discuss his feelings. Luckily Jennifer changed the subject again.  
"What is your account number? I do some odd jobs here and want to start repaying you. And don't try to object, I insist."  
Harm named the digits.  
"It might take some time but I will reimburse everything."  
"I know you will," Harm reassured her.  
"I have to go. My mum will be back from her therapy in a minute."  
"Okay. Speak to you later and don't forget to say hi to your mum from me."  
When he placed the receiver back in its socket he heaved a sigh. Finding new homes for the kittens was more easily said than done. No one at JAG seemed to want to have a fluffy fur ball. Maybe it was time to find other ways. He wasn't too sure about Craigslist, though. He wanted to be sure each kitten got a good home. Rolling his stiff shoulders he rose. It was time for action. First eat and then tidying and cleaning the house, that is.  
After dinner he did the dishes and made a round through the living and bedroom area to retrieve all loose items. It was only now that he discovered the box of condoms, lying in front of the nightstand, its contents scattered over the floor. Wow, last night must have been wilder than he remembered, he thought. He quickly collected them, put them back into the box and placed it at its rightful spot in the nightstand drawer. It wasn't the time yet to get rid of them. Of course he and Mac wanted a child, preferable more than one, but for now he enjoyed their new relation and anyway, he wanted to be married before fathering a child. All in good time! He fluffed the pillows and straightened the comforter. Dirty clothes went into the hamper.  
Rooms tidied he grabbed the vacuum cleaner. This caused the kittens to run for cover. Mother Mac jumped on the table, her tail flicking, keeping a watchful eye on the rumbling machine. The last of Harm's chores was downstairs to retrieve a load of laundry he had put into the dryer that morning. He folded the laundry and put it away. Then he grabbed a book and, with a cup of tea on the side table next to him and Mackenzie in his lap, started reading.


	2. Mac the Knife

**Mac the Knife**

"I have court in five. Why don't you come to my place later this afternoon? We can have dinner and then go over the case?" Harm suggested. He was talking to Lillian Desmoines, a colleague from Great Lakes. He looked at Mac. "Do you mind?" Since the two women just spent their lunch hour exchanging stories about their boyfriends she shook her head. "No. But play nice." Harm chuckled. He knew exactly what she meant. 

A few hours later there was the expected knock on the door. Harm walked over to open it, in the meantime making sure none of the kittens could escape. He opened de door slightly, telling Lillian to come in quickly. She had changed into civvies, now wearing jeans and a loose knit sweater.  
"I hope you're not allergic to cats or mind cat hair on your cloths. I forgot to ask earlier."  
No but …" she looked around "how many cats do you have?"  
"Now, well, one. The little calico over there." He pointed at the windowsill where Mackenzie was sitting and watching the street.  
Lillian looked bewildered and made a futile attempt to count the kittens crowding her feet. Harm chuckled.  
"My neighbour Jennifer had to leave town in order to look after her sick mum. I agreed to take care of her cat Mac. But it turned out Mac was pregnant, so suddenly I had one adult cat and seven kittens on my hands. I gave them all names starting with Mac. Unfortunately Jennifer's mum took a turn for the worse and she is still in California," he explained.  
"So you're stuck with the family." Lillian couldn't hide her amusement.  
"Yes. We are trying to find them new homes but up till now not much luck. But do sit down, dinner will be ready soon."

After dinner they spread out the paperwork on the table. But working is not easy when you share your house with seven lively kittens. After a while Harm decided to put them to bed early. In a few scoops he rounded them up and placed them into the cage. A loud protesting choir of meows was his reward but he didn't care. At least they would get some work done. It wasn't before long, though, that Lillian felt something climbing her leg. Apparently Harm had missed one little cat. She carefully lowered her hand and was greeted with a butt of a little head before the kitten turned around a few times and made itself comfortable in her lap.  
It was almost half pas ten then they decided to call it a day. Harm stood up and offered another drink.  
"A cup of tea would be nice," Lillian agreed and pushed her chair back. Harm's eyes widened. "Mac the Knife, what are you doing there?"  
"Oh, leave him, he was just napping on my lap," Lillian pleaded. With a shrug Harm went to make the promised tea. When he came back he placed the cup on the small table next to her, he bent over to pick up the kitten and bring him to his brothers and sisters.  
But Mac the Knife was not having it. He hooked his little claws securely into the loose material of her sweater, clearly not intending to let go any time soon. When Harm tried again, he bared his teeth, growled and his whole body language seemed to radiate 'this is my human!'  
Lillian laughed out loud. "So you don't want to let go, little kitty cat. What's your name?"  
"That is Mac the Knife," Harm told her. "Let go, Mac."  
Once again he tried to pry the little claws out of the jumper but to no avail. The kitten hissed and clung on. That is, until he couldn't hold any longer. Then he jumped off Lillian's lap and sped off. Harm turned around to see where he had gone and noticed the little cat taking refuge under a chair. There he turned and waited, claws ready. When Harm approached he snarled again. Harm didn't flinch, he bent down to scoop the kitten up. But then …  
"D**n, you little rat!"  
Harm jumped back and looked at his hand where four bloody marks bore witness that Mac the Knife was not going anywhere without a fight. With another muffled curse and an angry glare Harm headed for the bathroom to tend his wounds. When he returned, his hand was cleaned and covered with several bandages. He looked around to find his attacker and found him once again on the lap of the visitor. He purred loudly and definitely looked triumphant.  
When Harm approached the animal braced himself, ready to strike again.  
Lillian bit back a smile. "Wow, you're one feisty little thing." She tickled him behind his ear. The cat tilted his little head and purred. For now Harm decided to sit and drink his tea.  
Tea gone though, it was time for Lillian to leave. And now it was her turn to slowly entangle herself from her catty admirer who had fallen asleep once more, his front paws firmly wrapped around her wrist.  
Mac the Knife meowed protesting but did nothing. She lifted him up to eye height. He dangled helplessly and harmlessly in her grip, still purring.  
"What do I do with you, pussycat?"  
"Meow."  
"Maybe I should keep you." She looked at Harm. "I used to have a cat but the past years I have been on deployment so often I couldn't have a pet. But now I have a roommate who is a civilian and my boyfriend lives nearby so I have cat sitters when I'm out of town."  
"Are you sure?" Harm asked. "You saw, he can be feisty."  
Lillian bit back a smile "I saw that." She cuddled Mac the Knife against her cheek and was rewarded with a lick. "I think he likes me."  
"I think he does," Harm smiled wryly. He rubbed his hand. "Well, I'd like him to have a good home but how are you going to do it? Transport him, I mean."  
"I have to think of that. And I suppose I have to discuss it with my roommate," she frowned. "Maybe it's better if I let you now for sure tomorrow, if that's okay with you?"  
"Fine with me," Harm told her.  
Lillian rose. "Shall I put him in the cage?" Harm nodded, grateful to avoid another encounter with four razor-sharp claws. Lillian carried her new best friend over to Harm's bedroom and carefully dropped him through the hatch onto the pillow.  
"Be good to daddy," she cooed. Harm pulled a face but kept silent.  
They said their goodbyes, Lillian promising to call as soon as possible.  
When he crawled into his bed Harm looked at the cat's cage. Mac the Knife sat on the highest plateau of the scratch pole, looking down on him. The tip of his tail flicked and his amber eyes glowed. Harm put his head down on the pillow. He knew when he was defeated. 

_Saturday morning  
_The knock on the door was early.When Harm went to open, Lillian was standing there, a cat carrier in her arms.  
"Come in," Harm invited.  
"Thanks." She put the carrier next to the door

At the sound of her voice a flash of black and white fur emerged from the bedroom. It bumped against the visitor's legs and deftly clawed its way up. There he started to rub his little face against her cheek, alternated with suspicious glares at Harm, daring him to interfere. `Mine` his whole demeanour said and Harm knew better that to come between Mac the Knife and his human.  
"Can I get you a drink?" he asked instead.  
"Thanks, but no thanks. My boyfriend is waiting downstairs in the car."  
"Fine. I have a little bag for you with Mac the Knife's stuff. His paperwork from the vet; he will need his second shots in a few days. And a tin of kitten food and a bag of kitten kibble." He handed over the items.  
"Thanks, I already bought him a food bowl, a water bowl and a little blanket. And look, who is to be a pretty boy?"  
She put the kitten down and crouched next to him, pulling a dark blue collar with little rhinestones out of her pocket. Mac the Knife didn't protest when she put it round his neck. Then she started him to guide him into the carrier. Harm bent down to give him a farewell pet but that wasn't to the liking of the animal, who hissed once more to his foster dad.  
"Hey, hey," Lillian berated him. "Be nice to Harm; he took good care of you."To Harm's amazement the fierce kitten seemed to listen and let Harm pet him for a moment. Then he turned around and, with his tail held high, he walked into the carrier. There he turned around again and sat himself with an expression on his face telling the world he was ready to go.  
"Mraow," he said impatiently.  
Both the humans laughed.  
"He is right; we should go," Lillian announced. "Harm, thank you very much. I'm very happy with my new feline friend."  
"No, thank you," Harm protested. "I'm happy Mac the Knife found a good home."  
Lillian hung the bag on her arm and picked the carrier up. Harm held the door for her. And so Mac the Knife disappeared out of his life without looking back for a second.  
Harm returned to his chores. 'Two down, five to go' he thought. 


	3. Visiting McMurphy's

**A trip to McMurphy's**

"What the h**** !"  
A blistering oath split the air in McMurphy's Tavern, making every head shoot up to see Max, who had been cleaning tables, race for the bar.  
"What do you think you are doing!" The second oath was colourful enough to make a seasoned marine blush. However, all of those seasoned marines and naval officers didn't pay any attention to his language but were watching the counter intently, ready to offer assistance. Max had disappeared behind it and emerged with the culprit in his strong hands. A culprit that squirmed helplessly in his grip. In the stunned silence another oath, less loud but no less colourful could be heard.

Harm was sitting with Bud in a booth in the back of McMurphy's Tavern, a bit out of the way of the general noise. Between them lay a stack of papers about a case that had been baffling him for days. Normally he wouldn't have taken work along to the pub, but he hoped that over a pint he and Bud together would come up with some new insights. Too much concentration sometimes could block inspiration – not that inspiration should be found on the bottom of a glass – but a different setting, different smells and sounds might trigger new ideas. So Harm had asked Bud if they could meet here and, sipping their beers every now and then, they had gone over the statements of the two main witnesses, and a chance word overheard from another table had indeed triggered something: doubt. The timeline in one of the stories was off. One of the witnesses was lying, or rather, not telling all of the truth.  
Harm was jotting down some notes on the statement's holes, when Max's expletives made his head shoot up like everyone else's. And when he saw what – who was squirming in the proprietor's big hands, he uttered some choice words himself: What the h***!

In the silence that had followed Max's curses, Harm's muted curse was all too audible. Max immediately turned towards him. "Yours?" he said, lifting up the black and white kitten by the scruff of its neck.  
Harm nodded, not bothering to explain the complicated situation that left him the foster 'father' of seven rambunctious kittens. "But how on earth … I didn't put him into my pocket, of course … he must have hitched a ride in my briefcase." He picked it up and looked inside. There he spotted the tell-tale signs of feline occupation: a few black hairs, some claw punctures in the remaining papers and a small tear – also claw induced – in the lining.  
"Yes," he sighed resignedly, "that little … "  
"Scoundrel," Bud supplied with a grin.  
"Sneak," an officer at the next table offered.  
"Scamp," another said.

"More like drunken sod," Max walked over to Harm's table and deposited the little cat squarely into Harm's hands, where it immediately tried to bury itself into his jacket. "I have to say though," Max continued, "that he has excellent taste. He eschewed the Heineken and went straight for the Guinness tap."  
"That's why I named him McMurphy," Harm said. "A few weeks ago he knocked over my drink and lapped up as much as he could hold. He was as drunk as an Irish sailor on shore leave. Slept two days straight."

"McMurphy, hey?" Max grinned, looking at his pub's namesake of whom only a tail could be seen. "I think I have something even more to his taste." Max walked back to the bar, ducked under it and resurfaced with a medium sized bottle holding something yellow and a saucer. He poured a bit into the saucer. "Let's see if he likes this," he said putting it on the table in front of Harm.  
"What's that? Eggnog?"  
"Advocaat."  
"Advocate?"  
"Advocaat – a Dutch version of eggnog. Friend of mine brought it over last year."  
While they were talking, a little black head with a white patch on one ear poked out of Harm's jacket. McMurphy sniffed almost like a dog and then headed straight for the saucer burying his nose in the offering.  
"He likes it, alright," Max chuckled. "Did you know the Dutch word 'kater' means a hang-over as well as a tomcat?"

Harm shook his head, as much at Max's comment as at McMurphy's greed, for the kitten was already washing his whiskers.  
"Okay," Max said, "how about a job offer … is he a good mouser?"

"Haven't seen mice in my apartment in ages, but what mouse is stupid enough to brave a house with eight cats?" Harm grinned.  
Max smiled. "I have mice in my storage so, McMurphy, this is the offer: a warm house and a soft pillow, regular kibble during the week, a dollop of advocaat or eggnog on Saturday and another for every five mice."

Everyone in the pub waited for Harm to answer. They saw him hesitate, looking at Max and then down at McMurphy who had finished cleaning his whiskers. The little cat looked at his plate, then looked up to Max. Then, before Harm could say anything, he hiccupped, put a paw on the saucer and said "Meow!"  
"Deal!" said Max, while the entire taproom roared with laughter.


	4. Macavity

**Macavity **

_Friday evening  
_After a long day in court, Harm opened the door to his apartment and tossed his coat in the direction of a chair. Weekend – finally! And the right way to begin that, was with a mug of home brewed coffee, not that slop they called coffee at the courthouse. But before he had moved even an inch towards the kitchen he felt all too familiar claws scaling his pants. What?!  
"Mac!"  
About a week after Major MacKenzie had caught him in the kitten crisis, Harm had told her to use her spare key to his apartment without asking his permission every time. That wasn't practical and besides, in his mind his house was hers anyway.  
"Mac! Have you let … "  
Three eager kitten faces looked up at him, calico Mac jumped off the couch and in his bed area he heard scrambling in the cage. A second later little Mackenzie had joined her dam and siblings. Only Lady Macbeth on the windowsill ignored him disdainfully, as only cats can do. Now he had five felines looking at him for sustenance. All listening – when they wished of course – to the name Mac.  
"Mac?"  
No answer.  
"How the hell did you get out? Mac wouldn't let you out and leave."  
Harm looked around and saw the signs of kittenish mischief everywhere. The little rascals had been out for quite some time. Shaking his head he unlocked the food cabinet. The mewling increased and now Lady Macbeth also deigned to pay attention. He put the full dishes down and went for his own coffee. Cup in hand and cats again swarming his ankles, Harm checked the fridge. There was enough for a simple meal of roast potatoes, broccoli and baked brie. After popping the potatoes into the oven, he quickly cut the broccoli into flowerets and set them to a boil, while gnawing on the stem. He did offer it to MacDonalds, who as usual, had staid in the kitchen to beg for morsels. It was amazing how much disgust could be expressed with a black-furred face and white whiskers. Only when the inveterate scrounger had stalked off, he took out the cheese. The pre-breaded brie took just a few minutes to bake, so before long he was sitting at the table with his meal and half a pint of lager. His beer was safe, now that McMurphy had 'accepted' a job at their favourite pub, but his cheese wasn't. MacDonalds was stalking him again so Harm ate quickly. At the end of the meal he felt his energy drain away, so instead of doing something constructive with his evening, he decided to take a real early night and spend some time reading before going to sleep.  
But before he would be able to think of sleep, he needed to round up the cats again. This time it was an easy task, since all of them were either busy washing themselves after their meal or already drowsing. So he scooped them all up and dropped them into the cage. Only adult Mac was allowed to stay up a little later. To be absolutely sure Harm counted and recounted the kittens in the cage and double checked the closing of the hatch, before he selected a book and took to his own bed. The book was entertaining, but not entertaining enough to keep Harm awake for long. After half an hour he gave up the fight with his drooping eyelids, turned off the light and went to sleep.  
OUCH! Woken from a sound sleep, Harm reached for his maltreated ear. "Mac! Don't do that!"  
"Mrrrrroaw," a sleepy half purr half meow came from the foot of his bed where a familiar weight pinned his feet down.  
Huh? Then who was nibbling his ear?  
Harm fumbled for the light switch. When he finally managed to flip it, the light illuminated a black and white kitten which had fled halfway down his bed, MacDonalds.  
"How did you get out?" Sure enough the hatch was open and all the kittens had absconded from the cage. McKinley had found a perch right on top of it, but the other three were nowhere to be seen. He could hear one, however, from his desk. Or better to say, he heard his briefcase crash to the floor. In a few big strides Harm was in his 'office'. The briefcase had burst open, strewing papers everywhere and of course, no culprit in sight. He looked under the desk. There was Lady Macbeth washing her tail with a look of affront on her face. It was more likely that the load had fallen on her than that she had been instrumental in making it fall. That left MacKenzie, who would never do something like that, or … Macavity …  
_And when you reach the scene of crime, Macavity's not there …  
_With a sigh Harm picked up the papers, resorted them and – as it had to have been Macavity – checked if they were all there. No. One of the most important papers was missing and once again Harm was reminded of the original poem:  
_And when the Foreign Office find a treaty's gone astray,  
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,  
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair -  
But it's useless to investigate - __Macavity's not there!  
_But investigate he would have to; that envelope was due at the Admiral's desk tomorrow. First he went in search of his navy issue torch. Armed with this, Harm checked Macavity's usual hiding places: the high shelves, all five of them, and behind the fridge. Alas, no envelope marked 'confidential'. Then he went belly down on the floor, shining the torch under all the furniture and locating all the dust bunnies he had missed while cleaning, but no envelope.  
"D*** you, Macavity! I need that envelope!"  
But from the top of his desk, Macavity's eyes just reflected his torch light in green fluorescence and if Harm had expected a pointing paw, he was sorely disappointed.  
"Help me out, Macbeth! You must have seen where he hid it."  
Lady Macbeth blinked at Mac, sniffed disdainfully and started washing her paws.  
"Alright!" Angrily Harm heaved himself up from the floor, grabbed both kittens and dumped them unceremoniously into the cage. Next McKinley went in and then MacDonalds was scooped up off the bed, just before he could jump to safety. Only little Mackenzie was nowhere to be seen … could she after all … Harm looked around again at all the kitten's favourite spots. No small calico. Mother Mac still lay curled up on his bed, pretending sleep but she did keep one eye trained on him. Obviously she did not relish a night in the cage with her offspring. Harm smiled at her ruefully, "The trouble you have caused me, lady …!" That's when he spotted Mackenzie, curled up against her mother, her own calico pelt blending in perfectly with hers. "Okay," another smile, now tender and loving, "you may stay there."  
But the smile disappeared quickly when he returned to the living for a very thorough search. Turning on all the lights, Harm began to search the room systematically. First all the bookcases were examined and the shelves stripped of their books; he looked under them and behind them, shining the torch into every crevice … no envelope. Next was his desk. Not under it, not between the papers on top and not in the top drawers. The bottom two drawers were locked and for all his cleverness, Macavity could not have unhooked the keys from his key ring and opened those. That left the kitchen, the bathroom and the other furniture. The bathroom door was closed. For good measure he took a quick look inside, and into the cabinets, but no, of course not.  
When he walked to the kitchen, Harm heard some suspicious noises from the cage. In a flash he turned around and shone his torch in that direction. Just under the hatch hung three kittens, all with an expectant look on their furry little faces. Half a foot above them hung Macavity, his green eyes slit in concentration and one paw hooked around the latch. When he realised he had been caught red-pawed, he dropped down to the pillow and started washing the pads and cleaning his nails, eyeing them studiously. The other three took a second longer to realise they had been spotted. Then McKinley scrambled up and across to her favourite high perch, while the other two also dropped down.  
_You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,  
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.  
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,  
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.  
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:  
At whatever time the deed took place - Macavity wasn't there!  
_"You ain't fooling me, buddy," Harm smiled grimly this time. He went over to his work closet and took out a set of tie-rips. First he secured the door of the cage and then, with an apologetic caress picked up MacKenzie and dropped her into the cage too, before securely tying the hatch shut. "That should keep you in there!"  
Searching the kitchen turned up zilch too, so as a last resort Harm turned to the living room furniture, turning each piece over one by one and checking for loose upholstery. There was plenty evidence of kittenish attempts at demolition, but no tears or rents big enough to drag an envelope through. Nothing stuffed under the pillows and Harm was pretty d*** sure that Macavity couldn't have hidden the documents in his bedroom, for he would have seen the Napoleon of Crime when he made his way over to the desk. Shaking his head, he sat down on the edge of his bed and wrecked his brain …  
_Where could that envelope be … where could tha… whe…_ fatigue took over. He would have to continue the search in the morning, no use doing it now. Just wait for some better light and maybe some inspiration. Harm sank back into his bed, pulled the comforter over him and slept before he could complete another coherent thought.

_Saturday morning_  
It was well past 0800 when Harm dragged his still tired body out of bed towards the shower. Yes, he had slept, but it had been a fitful night full of dreams of disappearing envelopes, angry admirals and mocking green cat eyes. A look at the cage revealed five pairs of them, all pleading to be let out and more importantly, to be fed. No way! First a shower, then another search for the missing documents and only then would he release the fiends in feline shape.  
The shower did revive Harm, but brought no inspiration, alas. So he began to search again, starting with his briefcase, then his desk and from there radiating out into the room. At 9.30 he had to admit defeat. Sitting down on his couch, he went over his options, which were rather limited. He picked up his cell and speed dialled a number.  
"MacKenzie residence."  
"Mac, please come over and help me."  
"Harm?"  
"Macavity's been at it again, he took an envelope of documents and I can't for the world find where he's hidden it."  
"I'll be right over."  
Sure enough, a scant 20 minutes later his front door opened and Mac entered, balancing two beakers of coffee.  
"Here," she said, "tell me what happened."  
Harm told her what had transpired the evening before, relating exactly where he had searched and how the kittens almost had escaped again. He looked towards the cage and even that slight acknowledgement of their presence set the kittens off, mewling piteously for their breakfast.  
"Quiet!" Harm growled. "You see, Mac, that envelope is due at Admiral Chegwidden's desk in less than an hour now."  
Mac 'saw' that all too well. "Okay, let's go through this one more time and reconstruct the crime. Where were you when your briefcase hit the floor?"  
"Standing next to my bed."  
"How long did it take you to get to your desk?"  
"Three seconds, maybe."  
"And where was Macavity when you saw him again?"  
"Sitting on the desk."  
"Then I think we need to concentrate on that desk. It has to be somewhere around there. He can't have moved it afterwards, so it still has to be in its first hiding place." Mac walked over to the desk.  
"All right," Mac said, "let's first see your briefcase."  
Together they opened the briefcase again and sorted through all the papers. The envelope wasn't there. Then Mac cleared the desk of all its papers, sorting through them carefully: no envelope.  
"Okay, so it has to be inside the desk somewhere or under it." Mac dove down and inserted herself under the desk. She used Harm's torch to light under the bits she couldn't reach. Next she turned over to look upwards and see if there were any crevices or cracks Macavity could have used.  
"Will you take out the drawers for me, please?"  
Harm took out the top two drawers.  
"And how about the other two?"  
"Those are locked, he couldn't have gotten in there."  
Harm searched the top drawers again but no envelope. In the meanwhile Mac was still looking under the desk and suddenly she spotted a large crack right at the back between the drawers and the back board of the desk. It was a good 2 inches wide, plenty wide enough for a kitten. And in that crack she thought she saw the white corner of a piece of paper. She tried to reach it, but her fingers couldn't get a good grip on it.  
"Harm, take out the bottom drawers. I think I see something."  
Harm to took out his keys and opened the drawers, pulling them all the way out. The first just contained his strongbox with important papers and foreign money, the second had an assortment of things he was sure he had never put in there, but again no envelope.  
He started to say something, but Mac had slid out from under the desk and was now shining the torch inside the drawer cavity. She reached and triumphantly held up a medium sized envelope stamped 'CONFIDENTIAL'.  
Just as Harm started to yodel victory, his cell rang.  
"Commander Rabb speaking."

"Yes, sir, on my way sir."

"Just a little domestic crisis, sir. I'll be right over."  
"You go," Mac said, "I'll put this to rights, feed the horde and spank Macavity. Not that he realises he has done anything wrong."  
"O, he knows," Harm asserted, "and he instructed Lady Macbeth to keep my attention off him."  
"_And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known,  
(I might mention Macbeth or MacDonalds, and not just them alone …)  
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time  
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime_," Mac improvised with a grin.  
"Off you go, you don't keep an admiral waiting."

15 minutes later Harm tore into the parking lot of the JAG building, silently thanking his guardian angels for all the green lights and the absence of police officers. Dusting off his uniform that still showed the signs of his antics on the floor, he entered the elevator and rode up to the bullpen. There he took a deep breath and knocked on the admiral's door.  
Upon acknowledgement, Harm opened the door and faced the two men inside who looked pointedly at the clock. It took an effort not to shuffle as nervously as an ensign caught slacking. Keeping his expression as straight as possible, Harm handed over the envelope to Admiral Chegwidden. "Sorry to be a trifle late, Sir."  
Chegwidden hummed, clearly not ready to chew out his subordinate in the presence of another man. Passing the envelope on, he asked "General Eliot and I would like to know what kind of 'domestic crisis' caused this delay. If it has to do with your involvem…"  
"Oh no, Sir, it was Macavity," Harm broke in hastily.  
Chegwidden looked puzzled for a moment, then he remembered "You mean, a cat delayed you?"  
"Yes, Sir." Harm explained the whole story to the Admiral and his guest.  
"You are positively sure these papers never left your house," the General asked sternly.  
"Absolutely, Sir," Harm affirmed and avowed. "And Major MacKenzie never looked into the envelope. She handed it straight to me when she extracted it from the desk."  
The General's mouth twitched." This cat seems to form a security problem … I might just have to come over and formally arrest him for appropriating government information and spying."  
Harm murmured an apology. "And Sir," he added, turning to the admiral, "there's more." Almost blushing he deposited a small item on Chegwidden's desk. "I also found this in the drawer."  
Admiral Chegwidden looked down at one of his own dress insignia. "But I wasn't inside your apartment for more than 5 minutes," he exclaimed.  
Harm shook his head ruefully. "He also nicked a bracelet charm from Lilian Desmoines, a handkerchief from one of Mac's clients and Harriet's driver's license, and one of AJ's transformers."  
"That's definitely it!" General Eliot said decisively. "This Macavity is under arrest as of now. He may remain in your custody until Sunday afternoon, when his sentence will be carried out."  
"His sentence?" Harm echoed confused.  
"Yes, court-martialled and sentenced by me personally, to serve the remainder of his natural life in my mouse-infested hunting lodge in the Blue Ridge Mountains." Abruptly the General stood up, put the confidential envelope in his own briefcase and walked to the door. "I will collect him from you place tomorrow afternoon at 1600 sharp." On those parting words, he opened the door and left.  
And while Harm and Chegwidden looked at each other flabbergasted, they heard a well-placed tenor voice singing in the corridors:  
_Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw -  
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.  
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:  
For when they reach the scene of crime - __Macavity's not there!  
_


	5. A cuddle from MacDoalds

_Warning: This is not a funny story. It contains talk of sexual abuse, stalking and severe animal cruelty.  
_

**A cuddle from MacDonalds  
**

Major Sarah McKenzie aka Mac knew the next interview was going to be a tough one. When Admiral Chegwidden had handed her the case file and she had flipped through the first few pages of the indictment, she had wished fervently he had picked another JAG-member to handle it. On the other hand she realized she might be the best person for this case. Nonetheless … a stalker cum rape slash murder attempt case was not something she was looking forward to just before the close of the week. This was bound to be a case that would stay with her over the weekend. She definitely envied the colleagues who were able to 'turn the knob' and forget about work when leaving the office. However, one did not say 'no' to the Admiral – at least not with only 'I want a quiet weekend' for a reason. And 'I don't want to have nightmares' would get her a ticket to the JAG-shrink; something she also did not want. So she had resigned herself to it and was now waiting for the victim – the alleged victim – to arrive. She had re-arranged her office just enough to ensure that neither of them would be sitting with their backs to the door. She knew all too well that was not a good idea when talking with someone who had been stalked. Mac was just reaching for her cup of coffee when a soft knock on her door heralded the arrival of her interviewee.  
Chief Petty Officer Maeve Campbell was not a pretty woman in the classic sense. She was of medium height, well-muscled, her hair cropped short – easy when you were in a combat situation – and she had that air that all seasoned soldiers have: tough, alert and ready for everything. But Sarah saw the tell-tale signs of a brittleness the tough exterior couldn't hide. Not for her at least. With a few words she tried to put the woman at ease and asked her to tell her everything. The soldier across the desk didn't need much encouragement.  
In a dispassionate voice Maeve told how it all had started: some 'fooling around' in the bar one evening. She had been groped from behind. Groped so hard it had hurt and left bruises. Turning around she had seen a group of marines, but she couldn't tell who had done it. All had been grinning and high-fiving each other. She had told them off and gone home. Two weeks later it had happened again, done by the same group. The next day she'd gone to the group's commanding officer to complain.  
Flatly she related how the officer had told her she was overreacting and that it was just some friendly banter. And that she had been told condescendingly to 'deal with it, sailor'. Two weeks later again she had been called in for disciplinary reasons and been asked to explain putting two men out of action by kneeing them in the groin, hard. She replied that they themselves had basically ordered her to deal with the harassment herself. Her commanding officers said that a little joking around did not justify sending two men to the sickbay, so she had calmly taken off her uniform and showed the vivid bruising on her breasts – some recent in dark purple, some in two weeks old fading green – but all clearly caused by squeezing fingers. And she had told them she was quite prepared to show the ones on her buttocks and inner thighs – all from a little joking. The reprimand had been stricken from her record, but the men had never been disciplined nor had any of the other men involved been spoken to.  
She told how, soon after that, the phone calls had started; always when she was off duty, always from untraceable, disposable cell phones. And how one day she had swapped duties unexpectedly and had been working in communications when a call came. She had used the equipment to trace it and – not unexpectedly – it had come from somewhere on the base itself. She had tried to trick the perp by calling back when most of the personnel were in the mess hall, to no avail. No phone had rung, no one had answered.  
The next day she had found the first message in her home. No sign of a break-in, nothing disturbed, just that small note on her desk with a chocolate. She had kept the note and thrown out the chocolate. The next message had come a few days later, and then they appeared with almost iron regularity, though she never could be sure where they'd be: in the fridge, stuck into the band of her dress hat, in her drawers, slipped under a vase of flowers … and even more unsettling, often they had been accompanied by an item that showed her stalker knew exactly what she had done that day or the day before. Had she bought chicken, she would find an orange and a recipe for cock a l'orange … A few times her unknown assailant had even beaten her home, leaving a token before she returned with her groceries. That had been particularly unnerving.  
Maeve told how she had reported the first break-ins, but with nothing to show for it, except some notes which at that time had still been rather innocent, and no traces of forced entry, her complaint had been dismissed. So she had changed the locks herself. That had kept her stalker away for exactly three days. Two subsequent reports from her side had been answered by a summons to the medical office and she had noticed what the therapist she had been made to see had written in her file: delayed reaction PTSD.  
And then the rumours had started – that she was butch … Rumours that, of course, had reached her superiors. They hadn't asked her outright; don't ask – don't tell. But her request for a transfer to another base or even deployment had been refused, on the grounds of suspected mental instability. The 'diagnosed' PTSD or being lesbian, one of the two was probably to blame.  
"Are you?" Mac asked, "I really don't care if you are a lesbian, but it is bound to come up in court. They will ask you, just like they will ask you what you were wearing and why you were where your alleged rapist found you. Anything to cast aspersions on you …"  
Maeve snorted. "Don't I know it?! It was at the end of my shift, 22:15. I was in uniform – winter dress – walking home on base, within 10 yards of my own front door. That's what saved my life, that and my neighbour having called in sick. On a normal day he wouldn't have been there to hear me scream."  
Reporting as a soldier reports a combat incident, Chief Campbell gave a blow-by-blow recount of what had happened that evening. From the quickening footsteps behind her, the hand on her collar, to her instinctive ducking making the blow to her head only a glancing one – just enough to make her dizzy and lose balance. Her realisation that her assailant was too strong and her decision – her conscious decision to scream against all that her unarmed-combat teachers had taught her. _Screaming will make you lose focus, it will make you feel vulnerable, it will tell your guts you cannot win_ …  
How her screaming had alerted her neighbour. Clad in only his boxers, her neighbour had come to the rescue, throwing off the assailant but only able to retain the mask he had been wearing. Navy issue balaclavas. Hairs and skin cells in the balaclavas had yielded enough DNA for comparison, and the testimony of her neighbour – a lieutenant with more clout than a 'simple' petty officer – had ensured that this time a proper investigation had been launched, resulting in the apprehension of the stalker.  
"And as to being a lesbian," Maeve added, "no, I'm not. But I'm not interested in men at the moment either. My …" her voice broke for split second. "I was engaged. My fiancé worked in bomb disposal … He was killed half a year ago. I'm not ready yet for another relation."  
Mac nodded.  
"You appear more angry than scared about that rape attempt," Mac observed.  
"Oh, I was scared – of course, I was. But I guess adrenaline kicked in, and besides, you know we are told as women what can happen when you are caught by the enemy. At some level you are prepared for something like this. Maybe every woman is."  
Mac started to ask "But …"  
"No," Maeve interrupted, "I don't want to trivialise that rape attempt. It was a terrible experience – harrowing. Actually, there isn't a word to describe it … and I want him to pay for it. To answer for what he did. Also to make sure he never will be able to do this to another woman."  
"I know," Mac said, "but what hurt you the most in all this? I see a woman ready to fight, but I also sense something has been broken inside, really shattered. I see you twitching whenever someone passes by my office, some flashes of fear when you see a uniform. But what I see won't be apparent to everyone – and to be honest, especially not to the average male. I don't want the jury to trivialize this. I don't want them to say that this hasn't deeply affected you. But hearing you describe it, it is as if it happened to someone else."  
Maeve started to say something, but then fell silent – a silence that grew. Two men passed Mac's office talking rather loudly, one of them in a clear Texan accent and Mac saw Maeve pale and twitch nervously.  
"Maybe we should talk somewhere neutral. I know a small quiet restaurant," Mac suggested. "Give me a second." Mac dug into her purse and fished out her cell phone. She didn't notice that a picture fell to the ground. While she started to dial a number, Maeve bent down to pick it up, looking at it inadvertently …  
Mac saw her choke up and stopped punching numbers. Glancing at the photograph Maeve held, she quickly revised her plan and speed-dialled Harm instead.  
"Harm, would you mind me taking someone over to your place? I know you're not there …"  
"Mi casa es su casa, querida," Harm answered.  
"Thanks," Mac said, "I'll explain later."  
She picked up her purse and coat. Maeve looked up, tears running down her cheek, trembling fingers still holding the photo of calico Mac and her kittens. Mac briefly put a hand on her shoulder, handed her a tissue and softly said "Let's go somewhere else."  
In the car Maeve regained her composure, but she still didn't say anything so they drove on in silence. Close to Harm's apartment, Mac turned into the parking lot of a large supermarket. "Do you mind," she asked, "I need to get a few things and I'll pick up something for us to eat."  
"Let me," Maeve said, "let me do the cooking, if _you_ don't mind. I love cooking."  
"Okay," Mac said, recognizing Chief Campbell needed a familiar activity to rebalance. "You grab what you'd like to cook and I'll grab my groceries. See you at till number 9."  
10 minutes later, they were on their way again. Mac laden with two trays of cat food and a huge bag of kitty litter, Maeve with a bag filled with chicken breasts, cream cheese, mange tout and potato wedges. At Harm's place Maeve helped Mac to lug up the heavy groceries. When Mac unlocked the door, the caged kittens set up a mewling clamour.  
"Commander Rabb was cat-sitting the neighbour's cat when she had a surprise litter. We're trying to find homes for them and so far have succeeded in placing only two. I'll set them free in a moment, but let me show you the kitchen first." She chuckled, "That sounds rather sexist."  
Maeve grinned back as she put her bag on the counter and started unpacking.  
"I'll try and keep the kittens out of your way; just shove them off the counter when they climb up."  
"When … not if?"  
"Definitely 'when'," Mac replied, while she upended two cans of kitten food into the large feeding bowls before she went to release the horde. Tumbling over each other the kittens ran for their food. Mother Mac followed a little more sedately, staring accusingly at Mac when she saw her own bowl still empty.  
"If I fill that before letting the kittens out, you would have to fight off your own offspring, Mac," Mac said filling the offending bowl. "A little patience never hurt."  
_'Wait till you have a litter'_ the accusing green eyes said, before the calico cat started to wolf down her portion.  
As soon as the plates were polished off, four kittens beleaguered Mac for attention; the fifth made a beeline for the kitchen and its enticing smells of chicken and melting cream cheese.  
Mac heard the oven door open and close. "That needs about 20 minutes," Maeve said, walking into the living carrying MacDonalds on her arm. Mac saw tears in her eyes again and poured her a cup of tea.  
"Can you talk about it?"  
Maeve blew over her cup and blinked a few times, trying to clear her eyes. She dug into her pockets. "Strange, I was sure I had a hanky somewhere."  
From the corner of her eye Mac saw Macavity slinking away dragging a piece of cloth. She grinned inwardly, but didn't show a sign of that to Chief Campbell. Instead she slid a box of tissues over. "Use these."  
"It was about two weeks before the attack," Maeve said, blotting her eyes with a tissue. "I'd gone out, off base, with a friend and we picked up a snack at a fast food place. We sat on the hood of my car and suddenly there she was: a young tabby looking for something to eat. We gave her some tidbits from our burritos. Then we went to the movies, but my mind kept wandering back to that cat, and she stayed on my mind the following day. So two days later I went back to see …" She sipped her tea.  
"She was still there. I asked inside if they knew where she belonged and they said she was a stray. So I coached her into my car and took her home. I named her Taco Belle."  
Abruptly Chief Campbell stood up and went to the kitchen. When she returned with two plates of chicken Kiev and roast potatoes, Mac noticed her scrubbed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. She said nothing and they ate in silence.  
"Taco Belle was so loving and trusting – too trusting. She was with me only four days …"  
Tears started again, rolling down silently. MacDonalds, who had been sitting on the chair next to her, put a tentative paw on her arm. Absently she petted his little head and gave him the last bite of her chicken.  
"It was Tuesday, I had a late shift. I came home well past midnight." Maeve choked. She fumbled in her pocket and came out with a creased picture that she dropped on the table between them. As Mac picked it up, MacDonalds crawled into Maeve's lap and, hooking his claws into her uniform, made his way up to lick the tears off her chin and cheeks. Soundlessly crying she held him close and stroked him.  
Mac couldn't help crying too, as she looked at the photo. Little Taco Belle had been nailed to the front door, blood streaking the wood, an angrily scrawled note pinned to her chest: 'I DON'T SHARE YOU. 

_Monday - three weeks later  
_Mac was in full spate, pacing the floor between judge, jurors, the defendant and her client.  
"… and why didn't she tell at first? Because in the military you have to be tough, and as a woman in the military you need to be twice as tough as the men, to be considered half as tough … She did two tours of duty in Iraq and one in former Yugoslavia and she came through: experiences that broke strong men.  
You know, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it was not those experiences; it was not the fact that she was not and had never been fit for duty as the defence council poses that broke Chief Campbell. It was the knowledge that one of her comrades, one of the men she trained with and spent most of the day with, one of the men she had to trust with her life in everyday combat – one of those, jurors, had to be the one who did this all to her. It is one thing to have to look over your shoulder every waking moment when you are in enemy territory, but to have to do that in your own country, your own base, your own home because one of the men you are taught to trust has turned on you … that, ladies and gentlemen, is devastating. All the more because she was not believed, her reports were belittled, her commanding officers portrayed her as a hysterical woman – and you have heard the defence council say just that again.  
But is this all the overreacting of a hysterical woman? Is it just fooling around, when it leaves bruises so vivid you can see them for weeks? Is it 'just banter' when a young cat is nailed to your door to die? You all saw the brutal pictures of that. It had to come to attempted rape and murder and the witness account of a ranking male officer for her superiors to finally take action.  
Take a good look at her, members of the jury. Look at the honours she wears on her chest – look at her record of service. Does this woman look as if flipping burgers is too arduous a task for her, as the defence council wants you to believe? No – you are looking at one tough woman who has endured more than could ever be expected of anyone, and more than enough to send stronger men home crying for their mothers.  
And she is not crying out for revenge; all Chief Campbell asks for is justice: for her and for that little kitten. And the surety this will not happen to another woman or cat again at the hands of this individual. So far the military has failed Chief Petty Officer Maeve Campbell – let's not fail her now." 

_Friday evening  
_It wasn't a real celebration, more like a subdued celebratory drink enjoyed in one of the more private booths of MacMurphy's Tavern. Maeve sat with her back to the wall, a glass of Herefordshire perry –which she had been delighted to find here – in front of her and occasionally scanning the guests at the other tables. They might have won the case, with a more than substantial sentence for the stalker, but they all knew it would take her months to recover. Mac, as designated driver, was sipping her favourite tonic water with a twist and Harm had a tall glass of beer in front of him. On the table sat MacMurphy, who had enthusiastically greeted Harm and Mac upon their entering and who was now eyeing their glasses hopefully. While Maeve caressed the young cat, Harm told her the story of how MacMurphy got his name and how he had landed the job in the pub. Maeve chuckled and tickled the cat under his chin.  
"I'm moving to Patuxent River base," she told them. "I'll be retraining as a cook, mostly off base I think, but living on base. I don't want to leave the military, but I'm not sure if I will be ready for deployment any time soon again. And, despite us winning today, you know how it works. Some things stay a blot on your record, however much you try and scrub them off."  
Mac and Harm nodded. Even if incident reports and faulty evaluations were stricken from a personal record, word would still spread and doubts about her fitness would continue to hamper her military career.  
"I do have a request though and that's why I asked you to be present tonight too," Maeve continued looking at Harm. "Next week I will move to Maryland, and I won't be moving for a long time after that. Could I please have MacDonalds join me in my new place? Major MacKenzie said he doesn't have a home yet and I … I think I need him."  
Mac and Harm only needed to exchange one look.  
"I wouldn't know a better place for him," Mac said warmly, reaching over to hug Maeve and then she grinned. "MacDonalds would love to have his personal chef."


	6. McKinley

**McKinley  
**

It was almost 6 o'clock and Harm weaved his way through traffic. An empty and quiet evening lay in front of him. Mac had a date with friends and there were no files to be read. Maybe he would … He slowed down. In front of him a red light flashed, indicating a fire engine had to leave base and come to the rescue in what ever calamity was happening. But there were no flashing red lights or blaring sirens so it couldn't be that serious. Harm smiled. Seeing a fire engine always bought him back to his childhood. Of course airplanes were the most interesting and important but cars, especially fire engines came in a good second.  
He drove on, seeing the red ladder truck in turn right on the next corner.  
He drove on, seeing the red ladder truck turn left on the next corner.  
He drove on, the red ladder truck still in front of him.  
He frowned.  
Then there was a red traffic light and he lost sight of the red beacon.  
A few minutes later he turned into his own street. Immediately he noticed the large red ladder truck. It was hard to miss and what was more, it was right in front of his own building, surrounded by neighbours and a lot of kids. Now alarmed he parked as fast as he could and almost ran to the scene of action.  
A fire fighter was already mounting the ladder. It was directed to a ledge under the windows at the third floor. There, almost invisible against the grey stones and clinging on was a small ball of fur.  
Harm worked himself through the crowd to the first row. "McKinley, what the h*ck are you doing?" he muttered.  
Up on the ladder a fire fighter now reached the little calico cat and carefully grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. With one hand he clutched the kitten against his breast while he slowly and carefully started to descend the steps. But McKinley didn't like it. She started to wrestle and the man had a hard time keeping the kitten in position. An indeed, before long McKinley had managed to free herself and claw her way to the man's shoulder. And there, sitting half on his shoulder and half on his neck she rode the way downstairs where Harm was already waiting for her.  
He lifted his ward from her saviour's shoulder and placed her on his own. The kitten made an attempt to seek an even higher seat on Harm's head but Harm was quick to discourage her. She was a little too heavy for his liking now.  
"Shame on you, McKinley! How did you come out of the window?" He turned to the fire fighter. "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."  
"Don't worry. We have to save cats from ledges all the time. You would be surprised to learn how small a hole they can get through. Or what kind of trouble they manage to get themselves into. What did you say his name was?"  
"McKinley."  
"McKinley, that name does suit him. Or her?"  
"Her," Harm confirmed.  
"Is she yours?"  
"Yes. For the moment, that is."  
The fire-fighter raised his brows in a silent question.  
"I was cat sitting my neighbour's cat Mac when I found out she, the cat, was pregnant. So I ended up with taking care of mum and seven kittens. That was about 14 weeks ago and since Jennifer isn't coming back yet, we agreed I would look for new homes for the kittens. I'm keeping one and four are already gone so she and her sister are the last two to re-home." Harm explained. "Why?"  
The man removed his helmet and reached out to shake hands. "Let me introduce myself. I am John Lookout Mountain."  
Harm's eyes widened and he had difficulty keeping a straight face. John chuckled "It's okay to laugh." He shrugged. "Heritage from my native American great-grandfather."  
"Harmon Rabb," Harm introduced himself.  
The other man went on "my daughter had a bad accident two weeks ago and has been in hospital since."  
"I'm sorry. How is she?"  
"Thank you. She is doing much better and will be home in a few days. But for now she is in a wheelchair and rehab will take some time. My wife and I were talking about getting her a pet to keep her company."  
Harm frowned. "It's not that I don't want your daughter to have a cat but if this is a spur of the moment decision, just because of her accident, I don't know..."  
"I appreciate your concern. But Cindy loves animals. She is going to be eight in a couple of weeks and since she was four, pets have been number one, two and three on her birthday and Christmas wish lists. First it were a pony, a dog and a cat but since we explained a pony would not be happy in an urban backyard and we are not allowed a dog in our house it has changed to a cat, a rabbit and a hamster. Mary and I were already talking about giving her a kitten for her birthday. We think she is old and responsible enough now. You are welcome to check, if you like. Or I can give you my commander's phone number, he will testify for me."  
Slowly Harm nodded. "I will like that."  
"Do you have a piece of paper?" Harm turned towards his car and came up with a note pad. John scribbled down two phone numbers and an address. "This is my contact information and this is my boss'. Can I have yours?"  
Harm gave him his card.  
"If I call tomorrow evening, will that be all right? Anyway, Cindy has to be home first."  
Harm nodded. "I'll keep McKinley for you and await your phone call," he promised.  
His colleagues had been busy pulling in the ladder and were ready to go, so John reached out to scratch the kitten, still sitting on Harm's shoulder, behind the ear. "I hope to see you soon, McKinley."

Indeed the day after there was the expected call. McKinley was very welcome in the Lookout Mountain family. In the meantime Harm had contacted John's boss and the man had assured him John and his wife would take good care of the kitten. As in all fire stations, the men of Engine House 3 were a close knit group and had supported John and Mary as best as they could. Since John and Mary had had a lot of expenses, the commander told Harm his crew would give Cindy food and bowls, a litter box, a blanket, in short everything the kitten needed, as a welcome home-present.  
So on Friday evening there was a knock on the door. In the hallway stood a slender woman, approximately 35 years of age. "I'm Mary Lookout Mountain," she introduced herself. Harm invited her in.  
"I'll get McKinley for you," he said looking around for the little cat. He found her on the highest bookshelf playing book end. Harm smiled and reached up.  
"Come down, your new landlady is here to collect you."  
McKinley rose, stretched and walked via Harm's arm to his shoulder. He picked her up and handed her to Mary. The kitten scrutinized the unfamiliar face but then decided she liked it. Out came a little pink tongue and she licked Mary's cheek.  
"You're so cute. Cindy will love you!"  
She cuddled McKinley for a moment, then coaxed her into the carrier she brought with her. Harm had the bag wit the vet's papers ready.  
"I agreed with John we would visit in a few weeks to see how she is doing. Probably with Jennifer, the owner of Mac and 'grandmother' of the kittens."  
Mary nodded. "John told me. You are welcome." She lifted the carrier. With one finger through the wire Harm scratched McKinley behind the ear for the last time and then he held the door for her and Mary. With a smile the woman left.  
When Harm had closed the door behind her and turned around Lady Macbeth and Mackenzie ribboned through his legs. Only two kittens left, all of a sudden the apartment felt very empty. 


	7. Lady Macbeth

**A vacancy in the castle  
**

Harm was already sitting in the waiting room of the vet, a carrier with Mackenzie and Lady Macbeth on the chair next to him, while Mac parked the car. There hadn't been a spot close by and as a sudden shower was pouring down, she had let Harm off in front of the door. The carrier was open and they didn't want the kittens drenched.  
It was busy; one half of the waiting room was filled with nervous looking dogs eyeing each other, alternately being called to order or soothed by their owners. The other half contained mostly cats, the occasional rabbit and a lone parrot. Some cats took it philosophically, other wailed loudly. But in his little corner it was relatively quiet. His kittens were sitting up, looking around with big eyes and ears perked but otherwise quiet. On the other side of the kittens sat a man with a girl of about 7 years old. She had clearly been crying, but now tried to attract the kittens' attention. Harm looked over her head to the man and gave him a smile, then said to the girl "They are cute, aren't they? They need their second injections against cat illnesses, that's why they're here."  
The girl looked up. "MacDuff died. Daddy said he was very old, but now Duncan is sick too. I don't want Duncan to die." Tears threatened to spill again.  
"Maybe Duncan has just a cold?" Harm offered. "Is he sneezing?"  
"No, he's barfing all the time."  
"We think he's swallowed something that doesn't agree with him," the man said. "But MacDuff, our other cat, died only last week. He was 20 years old, a respectable age for a cat."  
"I want another cat," the girl said.  
"Tania …"  
"Daddy, Robin has Malcolm and you have Duncan. MacDuff was Mom's cat but I don't really have one for myself."  
"Now, Tania, you know we said the right cat had to come along … "  
"Yes, but WHEN is he coming along?" Tania complained. "You've been saying that for ages!" Through the wire of the cage she managed to pet Lady Macbeth with two fingers, who immediately started to wash the spot. "I want him!" she commanded, pointing at the black kitten.  
"Titania!" The rebuke cut through the wailing cats and yipping dogs. "You can't just demand other people's cats! I am sorry, Sir," the man said to Harm, who just smiled a little and then addressed the girl.  
"What would you say if I wanted Duncan?"  
"He's ours!"  
"Yes, and this little kitten is mine …"

Tania drew a breath to retort with something, making her father clear his throat warningly and his eyebrows snapped together in a frown. Tania bit her lip and looked down to her knees.  
"Yes, Sir," she said in a small voice. "I'm sorry."  
Harm smiled again at the father and mouthed "She's up for adoption."  
Now the eyebrows rose in incomprehension.  
"Daddy, I need to go to the bathroom."  
"It's over there, honey," her father pointed. "And I'll stay right here."  
When Tania had left, Harm repeated audibly "She's up for adoption. She's the last of a litter of seven we have to find a home for. The little calico is staying, but she still needs a home."  
The man shook his head slightly, not in denial but in thought. "I can't let Titania think she got her way."  
"I understand," Harm said. He took out one of his cards and gave it to the man. "Maybe think about it."  
The door to the toilets opened and Tania came out just at the moment that the nurse at the desk called out 'Hathaway - Mr. Hathaway'. The man quickly pocketed the card, grabbed the carrier with his Duncan, who was clearly gagging again, and stood up holding his other hand out to his daughter.  
"Her name is Lady Macbeth," Harm grinned as a parting shot, making Mr. Hathaway's very eloquent eyebrows rise again.  
While the Hathaways disappeared behind the door to the surgeries, the door to the waiting room opened and Mac came in, shaking out an almost soaked umbrella. She quickly spotted Harm, and the two now empty seats, and walked over.  
"We're the last ones …" Harm said.  
"I don't mind," Mac replied, "maybe it will be dry by the time we leave again. This is beastly weather."  
They sat in companionable silence, the cage with kittens between them. Lady Macbeth still sat in the front, watching the other animals with interest. Little Mackenzie had retreated to the rear and curled up to sleep. Mac laid her hand against the wire to pet her through it, at the exact same moment Harm made the same movement, covering her hand with his. Holdings hands they each spared one finger to caress their little cupid.  
About ten minutes later the door to the surgery opened again. The Hathaways came out, without a cage, and walked over to Harm. Tania had been crying again but looked determined to be brave. "Duncan has to have surgery," she said. "He swallowed a marble. The doctor says he'll be fine in a couple of days, but he has to stay here now."  
"That's bad news and good news in one," Harm replied. "I am sure he'll be fine. The doctors here are very good."  
"May I pet her one last time?" Tania asked, pointing at Lady Macbeth, but politely waiting for permission.  
"Sure."  
Lady Macbeth reacted enthusiastically to Tania's stroking fingers, butting her head against them and purring loudly. Behind the girl's back Mr Hathaway gave Harm his card. "May I contact you in a week or two?" he asked. "I want to wait till Duncan is out of surgery and recovering well. I don't want to inflict a lively kitten on a sick cat, but a Lady Macbeth definitely belongs in our house."  
He looked down on his daughter. "Come Tania, we need to get home." And hand in hand they left.  
Harm glanced at the card he had been given. _Prof. William S. Hathaway, English dept. Catholic University of America_ it said, along with the contact information.  
"What was that all about?" Mac asked.  
"Well," Harm grinned, "MacDuff died and Duncan is doing poorly, so the castle has room for Lady Macbeth."  
Consternation, astonishment and then comprehension flitted across Mac's face before she burst out laughing.  
Ten days later Harm's cell phone rang. "Commander Rabb speaking …"  
"Good morning, Sir, Professor Hathaway speaking. Duncan is back to ruling the house and mistress Hathaway is agreeable, so would it be alright if we collected Lady Macbeth come Saturday morning?"  
"Absolutely, Professor. I will give you my home address." And he proceeded to do just that.  
That Saturday morning an elated Titania bounced into Harm's apartment, followed more sedately by her father, her mother and a 12-year old boy. Mother Mac saw the danger coming and scooted away under the sofa, but for once Lady Macbeth in the windowsill did not react with her usual feline disdain of humans. She too bounced into the room and, using a chair and the dining table, launched herself into Tania's arms.  
Harm shook his head at his kitten's uncharacteristic behaviour. "Definitely a match well-made," was all he could say. 


	8. Mackenzie

**Little peacemaker  
**

It was not a good morning. They had had their usual morning run but it had been chilly and damp. The ground had been slippery, and that didn't go without consequences.  
Back in the car tension had already begun to rise and as soon as they were home they were in an argument. An argument getting more and more heated by the second.  
"I'll try to be more sensitive, and you try to be less," Harm finally snorted.  
"Good. You try to be more sensitive, and I won't have to be less!" Mac shot back.  
Suddenly Mackenzie landed on the coffee table in between them. "Mreaw, mreoww," she screamed, clearly not happy with the way her owners behaved.  
For a moment it looked like Harm was about to give Mac another earful but then he turned on his heels and with long strides he was out of the door, slamming it close behind him. She could hear his angry footsteps die away and then there was silence. A silence only to be broken by a soft thumb when Mackenzie jumped off the table and went in search for her food bowl.  
For a few moments Mac glared angrily at the closed door. How did he dare to walk out on her? Then she slowly walked to the bedroom, to go and change, still muttering under her breath.  
Inside the bedroom the silence hit her once more. The comforters were still rumpled, witnesses of their night together. His clothes were in a heap on the floor and his scent was still lingering in the air.  
Suddenly she couldn't remember what the fight had been about in the first place. Had it really been something worth fighting over? And now he had run off. Who knew how he would react when he came back. She knew he would come back; after all, this was his home. She felt her eyes sting and before she knew it she was face down on the bed, crying her heart out.  
She was still sobbing when she felt something next to her. A rough moist body part touched her cheek to try and wipe away the tears. Had Harm come back without her noticing? She turned her head. No, it was little Mackenzie licking her 'mum's' face and trying to console her. "Meow," the little cat said, muzzling Mac's cheek.  
Mac bit her lip and held the little animal close. Mackenzie purred and licked her face again.  
"I was such a bitch," Mac whispered. "I can't even remember what we were fighting over. Surely it must have been something trivial."  
She curled up, still clutching her feline friend against her chest. Slowly her eyes fell close. A few moments later she was fast asleep.

In the meantime Harm had jumped into his car and spurted off. "What the h*ck," he grumbled. It hadn't been his fault the ground was wet and slippery and she had lost her balance. He was sure that if the situation had been reversed and he had landed on his bum, she would have laughed too. And he _had _helped her up and asked her if she was hurt, hadn't he? Where was her sense of humour? And how could a discussion about slipping spiral so far out of control, involving everything from doing dishes to leaving papers on the table and a towel hanging in the bathroom. After all, it was _his_ house, wasn't it? He had a right to leave papers on the table and a towel in the bathroom.  
He slowed down a bit. No use in getting a ticket for speeding. She had been showing odd behaviour for some days, he realized. Irritated quickly as well as emotional. It wasn't like his Marine to cry over a movie. Especially not if they had seen it before. He frowned. Maybe there was more to it. Maybe he should go back and had them sit and talk it over. He pulled a face. If she was willing to do that, that is.  
He was slowing down even more, looking for an opportunity to turn the car when he spotted a florist. A bouquet of flowers wouldn't hurt, he pondered. Not as a means to make up but to show her he loved her and was not going away.  
Ten minutes later he stepped back into his car and placed the 20 long stem roses on the passenger's seat. Slowly he joined the traffic again, his thoughts already running ahead. How would she react? What had she done after he had stormed out? Had she gone home to her own apartment?  
Suddenly it was very important Mac was still at his place.

Inside the loft seemed to be deserted. Harm felt his chest tighten.  
Then he heard a slight noise coming form the bedroom. Looking in he saw his Marine lying on the bed, fast asleep. Next to her, curled up in the curve of her neck, was Mackenzie. The little cat looked up when he approached. "Mroaw."  
Harm swallowed. She looked so vulnerable, his Sarah. Nothing like the tough Marine she normally showed. He reached out to wake her up, then changed his mind and carefully draped the bedspread over her. Then he went to the kitchen and put the flowers into a vase. Quietly he placed it on the bed stand, so she would see them when she woke up. Walking back into the living he grabbed his briefcase and sat himself to work, his ears perked for any sound from the bedroom.  
It was almost an hour later when Mac started to stir, waking up Mackenzie in the process. Slowly she sat up, making the kitten roll over. She blinked a few times to focus. There was something different, something that hadn't been there before. She reached out to confirm, it was indeed a huge bouquet of red roses. In the meantime Harm had noticed Mac had woken up and he was standing on the steps. A bit shy she looked his way but he was only smiling at her.  
Now she was off the bed and into his arms in a blink of an eye.  
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.  
"It's okay. I love you."  
He lifted her up and walked towards the couch where he sat the two of them down, Mac on his lap.  
"I don't know what happened. You surely didn't do anything to deserve it," Mac apologized further. "I don't know what's wrong with me; all the time I feel like I have a bad case of PMS. I'm so sorry."  
For a moment Harm didn't know what to say. The he took her left hand and kissed the knuckles. "There is a reason I gave you this," he said softly, kissing her ring finger once more. "Or better, two."  
Mac looked at him.  
"First, I love you. Second, I want to spend my life with you. And a bickering will not change that."  
Mac had to fight her tears again. She knew nothing better to do that wrap her arms around his neck and hold him tightly. Mackenzie scrambled onto the couch as well, wanting her part of the attention. For a while they were content to hold en be held.  
Suddenly Mac stomach made a rumbling noise. They both had to laugh.  
"Why don't we make lunch and after that we talk," Harm suggested. Mac nodded and realizing she still wore her running cloths said "I'll go freshen up." She hopped off his lap and disappeared into the bathroom. Harm went to heat up some soup and make a couple of sandwiches.

They ate their lunch, chatting about all kinds of small subjects. But after lunch Harm made them a drink and they sat down to talk. Mac didn't know where to begin but Harm came to her help.  
"What is PMS?"  
"PMS stands for premenstrual syndrome and it's a collection of symptoms, both emotional and physical, that a woman can suffer from just before her period," Mac started to explain. "Almost all women experience some symptoms, like retaining fluid, feeling bloated, tender breasts. Women having epilepsy can experiences more fits, women vulnerable for migraine are more likely to have an attack. But you can also be emotionally out of balance. Like very irritable or crying about everything."  
"Like you feel now?" Harm asked.  
"Yes." Again Mac had to control herself. "In general I hardly have any symptoms but this time … I feel puffy and my breasts hurt and …" she blinked furiously. Harm didn't know better that to carefully pull her into his arms.  
"Are you?" he asked after a while. "Just before your period, I mean."  
Mac nodded. "In fact my cycle can be anything between 28 and 35 days. But I'm late now. I guess that's why it's hitting harder this time."  
"I guess," Harm agreed although he had the nagging feeling there was more to it. "Is there anything I can do?"  
"I don't think so," Mac sighed, resting her head against his chest. "But I like you holding me."  
After a while they decided it was time to do their afternoon chores. First they cleared away the dishes. Then Harm grabbed some bags to go grocery shopping.  
"You're not coming?" he asked a bit disappointed when Mac didn't follow him.  
Mac walked over to him and folded her hands loosely behind his neck. Immediately his arms went equally loosely around her waist. It was already their favourite position when they had to discuss a minor subject.  
"I was thinking, I still have to read a few files. What if you go grocery shopping and I read and then we will have the rest of the weekend just for us?"  
Slowly Harm nodded. He would have preferred she was coming with him but she was right.  
"Okay," he said. "Anything special I have to buy?"  
"I made shopping list," his beloved told him. "It's on the fridge."  
Dutifully Harm plucked it away from under the magnet and went to the supermarket, while Mac curled up on the couch, surrounded with files.

At the supermarket Harm wheeled his trolley through the aisles. In went several kinds of cereals, veggies, bread, milk and a few one-person's rations of meat. At the pharmacy department he bought two boxes of condoms. Surely a child was planned but not yet. He checked his list. Canned fruit, snacks, butter, eggs and a bag of flour. It wasn't difficult but Harm had trouble concentrating. Like earlier that day something was nagging him, a thought just out of reach. He was on his way to the register when it hit him. He fell dead in his steps causing a well-built lady to almost bump into him. She first gave him an angry glare and then a more appreciating look but it went unnoticed by Harm. He turned his trolley again and returned to the pharmacy department.

When he came home, the house was deserted but on the table was a note from Mac 'Doing laundry.' Harm started to stash away the groceries and indeed, after a few minutes Mac appeared with a full basket. Together they folded the towels and Harm took them to the bathroom. There he placed them in the cabinet and proceeded with rummaging through the contents of the little wastebasket sitting on the washstand.  
In the meantime Mac had produced two cups of tea and when he came back she invited him to sit and discuss the rest of their weekend. Harm had something else on his mind though.  
"When was your last period?" he wanted to know.  
Mac started to count. "Almost six weeks," she said, a bit surprised it was that long.  
Harm's hand disappeared into his pocket and came out with a little item again.  
"Do you remember a few weeks ago I found a box of condoms scattered over the floor and we laughed about it, saying it must have been a wild night?"  
A bit bewildered Mac nodded; she didn't see where he was heading.  
"I picked them up and didn't think much of it but yesterday my cufflink slipped out of my hands and when I found it back under my bed just behind the leg I found this, too." He placed the little item in front of her. Mac picked it up. It was a completely trashed foil package. Clearly it had suffered from cat teeth and claws.  
He could pinpoint the exact moment the coin dropped. Mac jumped to her feet and started to pace.  
"I can't be pregnant! That's not possible!"  
Little Mackenzie, feeling her mistress' distress let out a wail an started to walk with her, only to be almost kicked out of the way for at that moment Mac had little eye for her surroundings.  
Finally Mac dropped down on the chair again and picked her up, absently petting the little head.  
"It was just before Mac the Knife left," Harm softly said. "What if he had his claws in not only this one? The best condom isn't much use when it's punctured." He put his hand in his pocket once more and retrieved a small box. He pushed it over the table to Mac.  
"I bought this, to be sure," he explained a bit embarrassed.  
Mac stared at the box. She still didn't believe, no, she didn't want to believe. Finally she took it and disappeared into the bathroom. A bit later she rejoined Harm and together they watched the little stick.  
First one little pink line appeared; the test line to see whether the pregnancy test was working. Then, ever so slowly, a second line appeared in the other little window, indicating it was true. Mac was pregnant.  
Mac looked for a few seconds at both the pink lines. Then she rushed to the bathroom. Harm heard her fall on her knees and throw up. He waited a few moments; then he went in, filled a glass with water and moistened a washcloth. When Mac started to sit straight he tenderly wiped her face and gave her the water to rinse her mouth. Then he helped her up and walked her back to the living. Arms around each other they sat on the couch and let the news sink in.  
"What's next?" Mac finally asked.  
Harm had thought about that and had his answer ready. "You are going to make an appointment with your OBGYN first thing Monday morning. If he confirms you're pregnant you are going to talk to the Admiral."  
Mac pulled a face. "That means nine, no eight, months of deskwork," she pouted. She placed her hand on her still flat tummy. "And I want this to be a secret for a while longer, just for the two of us." She looked at Harm pleadingly.  
He hesitated. "Okay, if your OBGYN says it's okay to wait a little longer. If not … if necessary I'll talk to Chegwidden. I don't want to take any risk! Next to that, we are going to make arrangements for the wedding. This one…" He placed his hand over hers, still on her  
tummy. "This little one is going to be born a Rabb."  
Mac just smiled. She knew he never would accept his child to be born out of wedlock.  
"You don't think it's too early?" Harm asked  
Mac shook her head and snuggled in a bit more. Now that the initial shock had vanished she started to look forward to her new life. A life with a husband she loved and a child.  
Maybe Mac the Knife wasn't such a little demon after all. Maybe he just had been a blessing in disguise.


	9. Reunion

**Reunion  
**

_Eleven months later  
Harm and Mac's house  
_"Sleep well, sweetie." Mac kissed the head of her little daughter before tucking her in under the blanket. For a moment she stood and contemplated. So much had happened over the last year she sometimes had trouble to realize it was all true. Getting a relation with Harm, being engaged, finding out she was pregnant. A rushed wedding, a new house, a new job at the legal division of JAG. There had hardly been time to breath.  
Not that she complained. Oh no! She now had the life she always dreamt of but never believed she would have. From downstairs she heard the sound of cups and saucers being set up. Harm was busy preparing for a very special baby party. Mac smiled a secretive smile. When they had sent the cards to announce of the birth of little Lynn she had slipped an additional note in seven special envelopes. Over the last weeks she had received confirmation from five of the recipients. Turning around she counted, three plus three or four, three single women, two single men, the two of them, fourteen people at the max.  
Next to her on the commode sat Mackenzie. Mac tapped the little cat on the head. She was still small for an adult cat but the sweetest pet you could ever wish for.  
"Time to go downstairs, kitty."  
With a 'mriaw' Mackenzie jumped to the floor and with her tail held high she ran in front of Mac to the door. Following her down the stairs Mac let her hand slide over the railing. Harm had done such a good job renovating. Although the house was their dream house, it had needed a lot of work. Very soon after finding out about her pregnancy, they had started looking for a home and after only a few weeks they had found this gem in Falls Church, close to where Harriet and Bud lived. Harm had worked his six off, starting with the main rooms like the living, kitchen, master bedroom and nursery and working his way up through the other rooms. Luckily Bud and Sturgis as well as several other co-workers, including the Admiral, had lent a hand. Now it was really a little palace.  
The bell rang and Harm went to open the door.  
"Jennifer," she heard his surprised yell. Descending the stairs she saw him hug the woman en rushed to greet her as well. Harm went back to the kitchen while Mac offered Jennifer a chair and then joined Harm.  
"What did you plan, woman?" he demanded to know, wagging a mocking finger.  
"You know, a little party," Mac answered sassily, kissing him on the cheek. She had only asked him to prepare for a gathering of about 15 people and not informed him about whom she had invited, wanting it to be a surprise.  
The bell ran again and Mac went to open. On the porch stood Maeve and Lillian. Ushering them in she saw Harm eyes widen. Now every few minutes new arrivals showed up. Maeve and Lillian were followed by John and Mary Lookout Mountain and their daughter Cindy, Max the bartender en Mr and Mrs Hathaway with Titania. They excused their son Robin; he had a friend's birthday party to attend. The last to arrive was General Eliot and Harm almost came to attention when he showed the high-ranking officer, whom he recognized form their earlier meeting, in. The General indicated though he was in civilian now and didn't expect special treatment. By now Harm understood Mac had invited all the people who were owners of one of the kittens he had fostered almost a year ago.  
With everyone seated and having tea and a pastry, Mac started to talk. "I invited you all because we, although very different, share something. We all have a cat, more specific a cat from the same litter. Taking care of that litter of cats marked the start of a whole new life for me and Harm and I wanted to celebrate, to honour so to say, that with a special meeting. Hence the invitation to you all."  
"I was very pleased with it," Jennifer said. "And I am eager to know how all the kittens are doing. Thank you very much for inviting us all."  
The others agreed wholeheartedly  
"But first I want to congratulate Mac and Harm with their baby girl. I brought you a little something." She handed Mac a gift-wrapped package. This was the sign for the others to get their contributions out, too.  
Ten minutes of unwrapping later, Mac and Harm found themselves surrounded by presents. There were a diaper cake, two little dresses, a stuffed toy and an embroidered towel. There was a bottle of Harm's favourite brand of whisky, which went accompanied with a wink from Max. Both Cindy and Titania had drawn cards and the General presented them with a generous gift certificate of a toyshop.  
They both thanked their guests heartily.  
Titania and Cindy seemed to hit off well together and had been whispering between the two of them. Mac raised a questioning brow.  
"May we see the baby?" the girls asked pleadingly.  
"You can," Mac promised "but not yet. She is sleeping now. After we've exchanged stories I'll bring her downstairs." She looked around. Everyone was focused on her once more.  
"I think now is the time to tell about our cats. I suggest we do it in order of the kittens leaving our house," Mac suggested with a quick glance at the General who normally would be first. Eliot smiled. "All right," he boomed. "But I like a second round of tea first."  
Harm hastened to comply with his wish and then Mac took the floor again.  
"A year and a half ago Jennifer asked Harm to take care of her cat Mac while she was out of town. Mac, by the way is short for Most Annoying Cat." Mac described the exhaustion Harm had suffered from and the day he finally confessed to Harriet what had been so stressing. Especially the description of the Admiral's reaction evoked a roaring laughter.  
"Then, about a year ago, Jennifer asked Harm again to take care of Mac while she herself took care of her very sick mother. But she didn't, and Harm didn't, know Mac was pregnant."  
"I am so sorry," Jennifer apologized once more. "I felt terrible when I learned what I put Harm through. And I hated not seeing the kittens before they went to their new homes."  
"Don't worry," Harm reassured her. "You didn't do it on purpose and we are all very happy your mum made a full recovery. "  
Jennifer nodded. "She is doing great and she sends her best," she smiled. "And I'm still very grateful for you taking care of Mac."  
"Before he knew Harm was the proud 'dad' of seven cute but lively kittens," Mac continued her story. "He decided to name them after their mother but also give them names matching their personality. That left him with Mac the Knife, McMurphy, Macavity, MacDonalds, McKinley, Lady Macbeth, and Mackenzie. As said, because Jennifer had to take care of her mum we had to find new homes for the six of them, for Harm had already decided he wanted to keep Mackenzie. That wasn't easy, but in the weeks thereafter each kitten found, or rather, picked her or his new owner."

She turned towards Jennifer. "Tell us about Mac the mother," she requested.  
"Mac is my cat for over three years now," Jennifer started. I got her as a kitten from the Humane Society. Maybe that's why I never gave it a moment's thought to have her neutered. I assumed that had already been done at the shelter. Since Mac is very much an indoor cat she never met any tomcat, or so I thought. I felt bad about the handful she had been to Harm the first time he cat-sat her but I didn't know anyone else to turn to and she seemed to have calmed down a bit. Little did I know it was because she was pregnant. Mac is an average cat, I think. Independent. She is not a lap cat but likes to lie beside you on the couch. She is gentle; if she doesn't like something, she rather walks away than using her claws. She doesn't like strangers too much; she wants to see which way the wind blows. She can be a picky eater but loves chicken hearts or liver. Mac, you asked us to bring a picture or two; here are mine."  
She produced two pictures, one of Mac sitting in front of the window and one of her with the cat in her arms. Mac thanked her, put them in a little box which sat on the table in front of her and nodded at Lillian who was the next to tell her story.

"I'm Mac the Knife's mum," the woman started. "When I was in Washington for a case I spent the evening discussing it with Harm. The kittens were put to bed early."  
"How?" Titania interrupted, earning a disapproving look from her father.  
"Since seven kittens can cause a lot of damage to your interior. I built a cage in my bedroom," Harm told her. "During the night or when I wasn't home I locked them in. They had pillows, toys, litter boxes and a scratching pole so they were fine but they couldn't trash my apartment."  
Her dad's frowning eyebrows told Titania she shouldn't interrupt again when an adult was speaking.  
"When Harm put the kittens into their cage," Lillian continued "he missed one, Mac the Knife, who found a sleeping spot in my lap. After we finished working and Harm wanted to put him in the cage as well, Mac wouldn't let go of me. He even scratched Harm when Harm tried to catch him."  
"The little rat," Harm muttered under his breath, looking at his right hand, which still bore the faint scars of that encounter.  
"He definitely fell in love with me. I already thought about having a cat so I decided to keep him. That feisty kitten has grown into a feisty young tomcat now. He loves to be outside. He considers all gardens his territory and terrorizes the neighbour cats. But he loves to spend time with me as well. Every evening when I'm reading or watching TV he sits in my lap and when I'm working at my desk he sits next to me on his own high chair." She produced three pictures, one of her and Mac the Knife sitting at her desk, the cat on a barstool next to her, one in which Mac strolled the garden and one with her with Mac in her lap. Harm recognized the triumphant, almost smug grin on the cat's face.  
"He is very much a one-person's cat. He loves me, he tolerates my roommate and my boyfriend but doesn't like strangers. When they try to pet him he will walk away or, when they corner him, hiss and show his claws. He is a good and keen hunter and brings me a present at least once a week." She shuddered demonstratively. "Ever woke up to find a dead mouse in your shoe?"  
Everyone laughed.  
"But I'm very happy to have him," Lillian ended her story, handing over the pictures to Mac.

Now it was Max' turn.  
"McMurphy came in my life on a normal pub evening. Suddenly I saw something black and white hanging on the Guinness tap, trying to pry a few drops out of it. It turned out Harm and Bud Roberts had decided to sit and work in one of the booths and McMurphy had hitched a ride in Harm's briefcase. As the kitten seemed to like a drink, I first offered him a dollop of advocaat, the Dutch version of eggnog," he explained seeing the quizzed faces, "and later a job as a mouser in my cellar. He readily agreed. Like Mac the Knife he is a good hunter and he earns his food and drinks."  
It was clear Titania had a question but she kept her mouth shut. Harm laughed.  
"McMurphy's Tavern is the bar we frequent," he explained. "When McMurphy the cat was still a kitten he once knocked over my beer and drank the spills. He was so drunk he wasn't able to clean himself and I had to bath him several times before the smell had gone. Next to his kibble he gets a dollop of eggnog every weekend and one extra for every five mice he catches. In short, he is a little alcoholic."  
"Yes, he is," Max confirmed. "I have to keep him downstairs in the cellar or in my apartment at evenings otherwise he would be fed so many drinks he would be drunk all the time and not doing his job."  
He walked over to his jacket and pulled an envelope out of the inner pocket which he handed over to Mac. Out came a photo of McMurphy sitting in front of a large beer barrel with a dead mouse at his feet. Next to that there was a picture of Max standing behind the tap, the cat sitting proudly next to him. The third one showed an eagle spread cat, sleeping it off.

"I was at JAG headquarters on a Saturday morning," General Eliot started. "We had an important meeting and we needed a crucial document. A document that was in the hands of Commander Rabb. He was late. Which was not unusual, his CO told me. When he finally arrived he claimed it was a cat that had caused the delay. Macavity. You all know the song from the musical Cats." The general burst out in song.  
"_Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw -  
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.  
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:  
For when they reach the scene of crime - __Macavity's not there!  
_Macavity is a cat who always steals and hides things. When I learned he had not only nicked the envelope but also several other items, including one of my friend Admiral Chegwidden's insignia I decided that little felon warranted a firm eye and a strong hand. So I demanded he would be under my personal supervision from then on. He is now in my hunting lodge in the Blue Ridge Mountains keeping the mouse population in check. Like his siblings he is a good mouser. Since he has such a large terrain to patrol and so many duties he doesn't have much time to get himself into trouble. Besides that, we know his secret stashing places and check them regularly."  
The pictures showed Macavity sitting on a large desk loaded with piles of papers while his owner was writing, Macavity strolling through the garden and Macavity slipping away with a teaspoon in his mouth.

Maeve Campbell had been thinking how much to reveal, especially when there were children in the room. She decided on the short version.  
"My story isn't a funny one," she started. "I was in a bad place, being the victim of a vicious attack and in that same period I also lost my cat. I don't want to elaborate now. Mac was the prosecutor in my trial and she thought I needed some TLC. And what better TLC than to cuddle one or two kittens. She invited me over to Harm's home and I met Mac the mother cat, McDonalds, Macavity who hadn't left yet, MacKinley, Lady Macbeth and Mackenzie. We had dinner and MacDonalds and I got along very well. After the trial I asked Harm and Mac to allow me to take him with me as companion. I was very happy when they agreed. There is something very soothing and relaxing in petting a cat and I needed that."  
When she had finished there was silence. Even the straightforward Titania realized this was not a good time to ask further. Harm lightened the mood by telling how McDonalds had gotten his name.  
"And that name still suits him," Maeve confirmed. "He loves his food. Like Mac the Knife has his own chair next to his mum's desk, MacDonald has one in the kitchen. When I prepare dinner he likes to sit next to me and beg for scraps. I can't leave anything edible unattended though. He is a little thief."  
She produced photos of a plump MacDonald sitting and watching her cut vegetables, the two of them sharing an ice cone and MacDonald looking up, one paw in his empty bowl, his mouth slightly open in what was clearly a begging or commanding meow.  
Mac grinned and placed them with the others in the box.

Cindy was next.  
"I always wanted a pet, "she told. "First a horse and a dog and a cat. But we live in a city house with only a small backyard and the landlord doesn't allow dogs. Last year I had a bad accident and was in hospital for weeks and they told me I would be in a wheelchair for a long time. I was very sad but my mum and dad said they had a big surprise for me. And when I came home McKinley was there! Dad told me he rescued her a few days earlier from a ledge and that she was looking for a new home and someone to love her. I do love her!" she beamed.  
"It's true," John Lookout Mountain confirmed. "I'm a fire-fighter and we rescue cats from high places all the time. McKinley lives up to her name. She loves to sit on high places and look down on the world. A bookshelf, the kitchen cabinets, the top of the stairs, your shoulder, anything will do. She is a nice addition to the Lookout Mountain family."  
The pictures showed Cindy with McKinley on her shoulder, the cat at the top at the stairs and sitting on the headboard of Cindy's bed, looking down on her sleeping mistress.

By now Titania was bouncing with excitement.  
"Our cat MacDuff died and Duncan was sick, so dad and I brought him to the vet. And there was Harm…" A warning cough and two knitted eyebrows made her back off.  
"Sorry, Sir." she apologized. "There was Commander Rabb. He had two kittens with him, Lady Macbeth and Mackenzie. I liked Lady Macbeth a lot but daddy didn't want me to have her. Duncan had swallowed a marble and he needed surgery and after two days he came home. I was still very sad because Dad had Duncan and Robin had Malcolm and MacDuff was mum's cat and I didn't have a cat of my own. But then two weeks later dad told he had a surprise for me. We went to the Commander's house and then I got Lady Macbeth after all." Since this was told in one long breath she now was all but gasping for air.  
"And she is very much Tania's cat," her father agreed. "You know the saying 'dogs have owners, cats have staff'? That was written with Lady Macbeth in mind. Tania may be her lady in waiting, the rest of the family, including the other cats are nothing more than her humble servants. One meow and someone is there to fill her bowl, open a door, pet her, whatever my lady wants."  
From out of his pocket he pulled an envelope with his contribution to the growing pile of pictures. And indeed, even on a photo the disdain was clearly visible. Lady Macbeth sat like a little statue in the middle of the table, her tail wrapped neatly around her feet. A second picture showed her while being fed a table scrap, the two other cats lurking in the back ground and a third one on which she slept stretched out on the head pillow next to her little mistress.

Harm poured fresh drinks and the conversation turned towards other things than cats. Suddenly Mac felt a little tug on her sleeve. When she looked down it was Cindy.  
"Why is Mackenzie named after you?" she wanted to know.  
Mac smiled. "You have to ask Harm," she said with a teasing wink at her husband who blushed.  
"Well, Mackenzie was the cutest so I named her after the woman I love," he simply stated. "And why is she special? Titania now wanted to know.  
"She is our little peacemaker," Mac took over. "When Harm and I argue she feels when a simple disagreement is turning nasty and she will be in our faces right away. She meows loudly and walks in front of our feet so we have to stop fighting and pay attention to her."  
"Why do you fight?"  
"Tania!" Now Mr. Hathaway had enough of the impertinence of his daughter. With a grim expression on his face he beckoned her over and drew her aside to give her a talking to. Moments later a very repentant Titania, fighting her tears, came to apologize. Mac felt sorry for her but knew better than to contradict the father. In stead she said "Why don't you and Cindy come with me to get Lynn?"  
In the blink of an eye both glum faces turned into a smiles.  
"You have to be quiet," Mac told them leading them to the nursery. Little Lynn was just waking up from her afternoon nap. Carefully she scooped her up and showed her to the girls. Tania stroked the little cheek with her forefinger.  
"She is so small."  
"Once you were as little as she is," Mac smiled, laying Lynn down on the commode to change her diaper. Tania looked as if she couldn't believe it.  
"May we hold her?" Cindy asked longingly.  
Mac hesitated. "You can while I make her a bottle," she decided. "Downstairs, when you sit on the couch and there is someone to supervise you."  
Both girls all but ran down the stairs to sit on the couch, flanked by their mums. Following them in a more temperate way Mac placed Lynn on Cindy's lap, feeling more comfortable by having the quiet girl holding her precious baby than the excited Tania. Both Mary and Mrs Hathaway nodded reassuring they would keep a close eye on them. When she came back with the lukewarm bottle, the girls were allowed to feed the baby under the watchful eyes of their mothers. After that little miss Rabb made a round of honour through the room. Slowly the party came to an end and everyone started to get ready for leaving.  
"What are you going to do with the pictures?" Jennifer wanted to know.  
"I don't have many pictures of my youth," Mac told. "We moved a lot so many were lost in the process. Therefore I like to document and I want Lynn to have lots of photos as well. To us the time with the kittens was an important one and I want a momentum."  
"I think we all enjoyed listening to the stories," Maeve said. "I know you are probably busy but when we all e-mail you the pics and our stories, maybe you can make a booklet for all of us?" Approving nods were her reward.  
"I can help you if you need," Jennifer offered.  
"Right," Mac decided. "I will do that. But you have to mail me within, let's say, two weeks." There were promises all around.  
One by one or family by family the guests left. Waving them out Harm stood behind Mac and pulled her to his chest. He sighed. A wife and a child he loved, a house, a pet, what else could he wish for? And all thanks to a Most Annoying Cat. 

The end


End file.
